Outside a stirs a Breeze. This breeze is not distinct from any other, yet she exists a conspicuously lone entity. She bristles as if in a struggle to reconcile her aspiration for a peaceful, non-turbulent life, with her conflicting raison d'être. During the fracas, the environment around her, disconcerted by this uncalled-for disturbance, precipitates a propulsion to expel the breeze from her fragile ecosystem. Rejected and distraught, the breeze gusts out in an inevitable act of nature, drawing even more undesired attention, and pushing her further and faster away on a meteoric path of upheaval.
Winding along, somewhat settled into this new flow of life, the breeze suddenly, as if in an act of fate, lands "plush," right in the midst of the leaves on many wiry, swaying branches. She is momentarily stilled, and complacently ensnared in the thick of the elastic framework of a Weeping Willow.
Alas, infuriated at the unconditional and indiscriminate acceptance of this drooping magnificence, and at the swallowed opportunity to be sad and free, the stifled breeze writhes and pleads, "Please, I should be free to flee from these groping leaves!" Then, through a combination of the tree's characteristic rigid compliance, and the breeze's classic series of evasive maneuvers, that which ceased to be upon collision was extracted amidst the groans of this ostensibly pliable willow.
The proud and lonely tree, wistfully watches the breeze ricochet off to another. All the while the World observes, amused at the irony of their lonely plight. For no tree can hold a breeze.
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